MonsterI have turned into a hot, tired, complaining, bitchy monster from hell. It is 102 and getting more oven like every minute. It's that kind of tactile heat that you feel is grabbing at you--some sort of cosmic pervert.
To be diplomatic work is leaving much to be desired. And when I say that I mean it's blowing goats. I never realized how important space is to me. I spend hours turing it into a sanctuary for me and a positive, caring enviornment for my students. My classroom communicates visually who I am. Without that space I am not myself for these students. I have not been connecting with them in the manner in which I am accustomed. Furthermore, they are behaving horribly because they are trapped in a small classroom space for the entire day. We try to get them to stretch, but to force them to sit for so long is contrary to their developmentatl levels. Grrrrrrrrrrrr. Plus we are trying to do this school self-study which will be the death of me. I wrote a mission statement which a lot of people liked, but of course I was told it could never be adopted because it was too different. God forbid any of these people accept new ideas! Vitrolic enough for you?
Eric is still in Germany, not due back until at least Sunday, and I am going slowly crazy. Or perhaps my normal slow craziness has been accelerated by his absence. In any case--growl.
These problems are silly and ridiculous, but they are my silly and ridiculous problems and they seem very real to me.
A walk would clear my head, but the aforementioned perverts prevent me. Thus I shall immerse myself in the Buffy I've recorded and be content with the fact that my school is not over a Hellmouth. Or at least as far as I know.
